Can a wrong number lead to Mr Right? Nick Davis's life takes an unexpected turn when a stranger starts leaving messages on his answer machine. Is there hope Nick can become more to Connor Hayes than just a wrong number?

CONTENT ADVISORY: This is a re-release title.

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Nick Davis stumbled from his bedroom into the kitchen, cringing at the bright sunlight of the January morning. He snapped the blinds down, causing him to simultaneously sigh with relief at the more subdued light and groan at the sound, which echoed far too loudly for his liking. Every step he took was careful and measured, so as not to make his aching head pound any more than necessary. He spared a glance at the blinking red light on the answering machine: a new message. Suspecting it to be a Happy New Year greeting, and probably a loud one, Nick left it for the moment. He headed for the fridge and a hangover cure in the form of hair of the dog, also known as a nice cold beer.

Damn, what did I do last night? He remembered meeting his mates at The Red Lion for a night out on the town. They'd had a few drinks there before moving on to The Royal Oak. Then they'd headed out to the city, where things started to get a little hazy. He did recall Marc screaming "Happy New Year" down the phone at least an hour early, but midnight itself was a complete blank. He supposed he should be thankful he'd made it home in one piece and hadn't woken up to find a strange man in his bed this morning.

After nursing his hangover until mid-afternoon, Nick finally remembered the message and hit the play button.

"Hey, baby! Happy New Year! Missing you already. I can't wait to see you again. Give me a call to let me know you got back safely. Love you."

Nick frowned at the answer machine. He didn't recognise the voice of the soft-spoken man on the other end of the phone. Chalking it up to someone too inebriated to dial correctly, he deleted the message and promptly forgot about it.

*****

Nick opened the door to his flat and stepped aside to let his best friend, Melanie Sanders, enter.

"Right on time," he said. Wednesday night had been their get-together night ever since they were in school together. Mel called it their Bitch Night, because that was what they tended to end up doing. In their younger days they had complained about their parents and homework; now the topics were their jobs and the lack of good-looking, decent guys in their backwoods little town.

Mel made a beeline for the fridge where she grabbed them a couple of beers. "Hey, did you know you've got a message here?"

Nick hadn't been aware the red light was blinking, and before he could reply Mel had hit the play button.

"Hey, baby. Sorry I missed your call. I'm working overtime this week so I'll try and catch you after I get in from work. By the way, did I tell you this was the best Christmas I've ever had, and it's all because of you? Love you, baby."

Mel looked accusingly at Nick from under her messy brown curls. "Something you forgot to tell me?"

Nick gave her a deadpan look. "Well, now that you mention it, it's just not working out between us. I think I might be gay."

Mel didn't seem to appreciate his humour and pointed at the answering machine. "You met a new bloke over Christmas and you didn't think to tell me?"

Nick laughed. "I wish. It's a wrong number. The guy's phoned here a few times since New Year's. He's got some long-distance thing going with someone."

"Haven't you called him back to tell him he has the wrong number?"

"I haven't got his number."

"I don't suppose you bothered dialling one-four-seven-one?"

Nick gave Mel an annoyed look. "Of course I did. I just keep getting that annoying automated message telling me what time he called and that the caller withheld their number."

Mel looked disappointed and Nick suspected another one of her blind dates might be on the horizon in the not-too-distant future.

"He sounds nice."

Nick shrugged. He did sound nice, and even though he had no idea if his mystery caller was gay or straight, he found himself curious to know what the man behind the voice might be like.

"You know, if you bothered to set up a personal greeting on this machine it would stop people with wrong numbers leaving messages?"

Mel was right. He wasn't sure why he'd never bothered recording his own greeting. It was simply one of those things he never seemed to get around to doing. If he set one up, his mystery caller would soon understand he had made a mistake. "I'll dig out the instruction book and see about doing that," he told Mel. By the time Mel left, some two hours later, Nick had forgotten all about the answering machine.

L.M. Brown lives in England, in a quaint little village time doesn't seem to have touched. No, wait a minute--that's the retirement biography. Right now, she is in England in a medium sized town no one has ever heard of, so she won't bore you with the details. Keeping her company are numerous sexy men. She just wishes they weren't all inside her head.

L.M. believes there is nothing hotter or sweeter than two men in love with each other… unless it is three.